Chapter Text
Callista crossed yet another name on the list.
She had been exactingly descriptive of what was needed and yet none of the candidates the agency had sent were in the least suitable. A dozen women had paraded across her small private parlor and she longed for a light dinner, a good cup of tea, and her soft bed. But that wouldn’t be possible if she didn’t fulfill her duty. Without more servants, the house was losing its battle against cobwebs, moths, and the stale smell of closed rooms. The elderly caretaker’s knees were so weak Elodie’s room had not been cleaned in a month.
And her charge was growing. Despite the family’s current financial troubles and penchant for scandal, Elodie remained the last heiress standing of a renowned line. A personal maid was a necessary expense if they were to keep up appearances. All she needed was an experienced lady who was well-versed in matters of propriety, fashion, and courtesy, so she would guide her mistress through the somewhat turbulent waters of polite society. And more importantly, it would have somebody with an unerring sense of right and wrong. Together, they could protect Elodie from the filth that crawled the streets.
The last candidate did not look promising. She was young, which on the positive side meant that Elodie would more readily trust her. But everything else was wrong. Firstly, she was a new arrival from inland. Tale as old as time: some dusty town slowly getting taken over and a hopeful family sending the most promising daughter to the city. No experience as a personal maid. No references other than very vague ones.
However, she was out of choices. Maybe this girl would be willing to be a mere housemaid, for lesser pay.
‘Come in,’ she said and the door opened.
The girl stood on the threshold, looking down at her feet. At first glance, she appeared to be well-dressed. The people that now lived in the neighbouring houses would not notice the details, but they were a heap of uncultured louts. But Callista could see every wrong detail. The black hair was braided neatly but without charm. The skirt hung right above the knee, so she could see a sliver of skin between the hem and the top of the girl’s stockings. And the top… Callista felt herself blush. The girl had yet to learn how to cover her generous bosom in an appropriate way. Her dress barely covered her chest and it looked as if an unfortunate incident was imminent. In fact, Callista was almost sure she could see half a nipple.
She was stunned into silence and to her utter mortification, she could not take her eyes away.
‘M-may I sit, mistress?’ the girl said and lifted her eyes. Callista could see her face clearly. It was not unpleasant: bright lilac eyes, nice features, and full lips with the barest hint of a pout. Poor girl. She would be in danger in this city.
‘… Yes, you might. What is your name, dear?’
The girl sat down and her skirt rode up, exposing her plump thighs. The more she moved, the clearer it became she was in dire need of polishing.
‘Roselinde, mistress.’
Whoever had been her master before had trained her to be obedient. That was good. It would mean she wouldn’t keep secrets from Callista.
‘Roselinde, then, I hope you understand the nature of this position.’
The girl nodded. ‘I haven’t been… I haven’t done it before, but I’m willing to learn, mistress.’
‘In that case, you will be getting half-pay until I deem you fit for more. Is that agreeable to you?’
‘Would I get a room?’
‘Of course! What kind of cruel mistress you take me for?’
Roselinde bit her lip. ‘Then I’m agreeable to it. Yes.’
‘May I inquire why?’
‘I do not like my current home,’ she said simply.
Callista glanced at her file. Oh, poor thing. She was in a boarding house. Those places were a breeding ground for sin and completely unsuitable for such a young, wide-eyed girl. She would show the girl where she’d sleep and that would surely convince Roselinde. Callista stood up, but the girl misunderstood. With a movement so sudden one her breasts escaped the confines of her dress, she threw herself at Callista’s legs, knelt on the ground, and looked up.
‘Please. Mistress, I’d do anything. Please.’
‘This is a most unbecoming display of emotion. Once you start working here, you will not do this again. Is that clear?’
Roselinde sobbed. ‘Oh, you truly mean that, mistress?’ she said, taking Callista’s hands and kissing them fervently.
‘I do. Now stand up and stop this.’ The girl at least could follow an order. ‘I will show you your room now and tomorrow you can bring your things here. And…’ she lifted the top of Roselinde’s dress so her breasts would be covered. Her hands, despite her best efforts, lingered there. ‘We’ll do something about this.’
She was fatigued — her rest had been interrupted by nervousness and wicked dreams she dared not think about again. It was the weather, she was sure of it. The science was very clear about the harmful impact of miasma and Veridian’s climate was a breeding ground for it. She looked out the window and grimaced: the sky was grimy and the entire city was flooded with humidity and heat. She missed the sunny, dry summers of the capital. But Valette was lost to her, so she drank her iced tea and tried to focus on her reading, until a knock on the door distracted her.
‘Yes?’
It was Jeanette. ‘Miss Callista, the new maid is here.’ The old lady smiled, a smile devoid of any kindness. ‘Should I buy a new uniform for her?’
‘The old one will do.’
Jeanette raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She was, after all, deeply familiar with the family’s lack of funds. They could barely afford necessities. A new uniform for a maid that wouldn’t attend to guests was a frivolous waste of money. Callista put down her glass and stood up. When she opened the door, Roselinde was waiting for her. Wearing the exact same dress she had worn the day before, but with her hair pinned up. Inappropriate for a girl her age, but Callista didn’t comment on it.
‘You’re on time. That’s good. Do you have your things?’ Roselinde nodded and held up a bag. A girl of truly humble origins then. ‘I’ll show you to your room and we’ll discuss your duties.’
Callista pushed open the secret panel and she heard Roselinde gasp. The service staircase twisted upwards towards the second floor and downward towards the kitchen. She watched Roselinde go up, her breasts bouncing with each step.
‘‘I trust that Jeanette has shown the kitchen. The rest of the ground floor is none of your concern,’ Callista began saying as she climbed up the rickety stairs. ‘My room is on the second floor, in case there is ever an emergency. Keep up the pace, please. You will need to learn how to be faster.’
Roselinde’s skirt was wide enough that, from below, Callista could see her shapely thighs, her luscious buttocks and, sometimes, a flash of the hair between her legs. That girl… they needed to discuss how to be a proper maid. The last stop for the stairs was the attic.
‘I’ll introduce you to Elodie after you’ve seen your room. Please open the door to your right, Roselinde.’
The roof was low and the floor creaked with each step, but the round window let in air and light. Which was good, because it was the hotter spot in the house. Once upon a time, several maids had roomed there, like sardines in a can, but now there was only a very old iron bed, an empty trunk, and a table with a small basin. Callista had made sure it was filled with cool water, but now it was lukewarm.
‘I hope you find this to your liking. Cleaning it is one of your duties, Jeanette cannot handle it.’
Roselinde nodded and walked towards the bed. She left her bag inside the open trunk and turned around to look at Callista. ‘Is that… for me?’ she said, pointing at the black dress laying primly on the bed.
‘Yes. It’s to be your uniform. Please put it on and then we’ll go see Elodie.’
Even before Callista had finished talking, Roselinde had already taken off her dress. Every inch of her body not covered in the fabric of her undergarments was covered in the sheen of sweat. The flesh looked soft and yielding, as if it’d bruise easily. Callista knew that she had to correct Roselinde, but she didn’t dare. Not when her mouth had gone so dry and her eyes could not look away as Roselinde dampened a cloth and began rubbing it against her body. The back of her neck first, then her arms and then, the round top of her breasts.
‘I… I will wait for you on the third floor. That’s where… where Elodie’s room is,’ Callista said and hurried down the stairs. Was Roselinde getting out her stays now? Were her breasts spilling forth, laying against her stomach? Was she cleaning each part of her body, even the private places? How did her body smell? Was she wet with sweat, with heat?
No. She had to stop thinking like this. She opened the door to the third floor and entered the main hallway. The wallpaper was faded and torn up in places, the rug was marked with the empty spots of sold furniture and the art was old-fashioned, but it still held a certain air of grandeur. There were only three rooms that high: Elodie’s room in the middle, and two unused bedrooms next to it. She breathed in and then breathed out. She had to be better than this. Her duty was to be a staunch pillar of purity in a home with a checkered past. She would save Elodie, and even Roselinde, from the ravages of unchecked lust.
Roselinde tapped her on the shoulder, breaking her out of her reverie. The uniform, as feared, fitted her even worse than her own clothes. Her knees were in plain view and her neckline… it was far more than plunging. Each time she took a breath, Callista feared the dress would tear. At least the white, lacey apron covered the worst of it.
‘Your apron is not laced correctly,’ she said. ‘Turn around.’
The girl did as she was bid. She was so pliant, so eager to please, that Callista feared what Elodie could talk her into. She’d warn Roselinde later, she thought, as she tied the apron strings tight around Roselinde’s waist. The fabric was old and frayed. Would it scratch the sensitive skin of Roselinde’s chest every time she moved? She would have to keep an eye on that.
‘Come. I’ll introduce you to Elodie and then we’ll discuss your duties in my parlor.’
She knocked on Elodie’s door once and waited. Soon enough, she heard the tell-tale sound of Elodie’s delicate barefoot feet running across the carpet.
‘I will enter now,’ she announced and opened the door. Elodie was standing in the middle of the room. She was the picture of perfection, her flushed skin glowing in the warm light of the morning sun and her luscious hair cascading down her back. The shape of her perfectly formed limbs and of her dark nipples could be guessed under the pale nightgown she was wearing. Callista had tried to convince her to abandon the fabrics favored by Veridians — all as flimsy as their morals — to no avail. ‘Elodie, I wanted to introduce you to your new handmaid. Her name is Roselinde and I’m certain she will be of much help.’
‘I don’t … I don’t need a maid.’
‘We have discussed this, Elodie, and I will not tolerate any further disagreement, is that clear?’
Her charge, with a new-found sullenness, refused to answer. What had happened to the joyful, obedient young girl of just one summer ago? Growing up was turning her into a stubborn, wild young woman who needed to be tamed, like the colts her father used to raise.
‘That is clear, Miss Callista,’ Elodie said and curtsied once. The mockery was evident, but Callista chose to let it slide for now. Just one week before, she had lost her temper in a most dreadful manner. She could not let the child think she could play with her. She’d be a cold guiding hand, as it was proper.
‘Then, please, introduce yourself, Roselinde.’
Oh, Callista needed to stop overestimating the education of the Veridian underclasses. When Roselinde took a step forward and curtsied, she did so with such clumsiness she almost toppled over. Callista’s own body stopped her fall and she was never so grateful for the thick fabric of her clothes than now. Yes, they were horrid for the heat, but she could not bear to think about how Roselinde’s body would have felt against hers if she had been wearing a Veridian dress. She grabbed Roselinde by the shoulders and pushed her away.
‘Roselinde, that was… In other circumstances, you would be punished for such clumsy antics.’
The maid hugged herself. Her eyes were wide and dewy, like a doe’s when it saw its hunter for the first time. ‘In other circumstances, Mistress?’
‘It’s your first day today. Nervousness is understandable, but I will not take any further mistakes lightly.’
‘I understand, Mistress. I’ll be good. Better.’ Her lips parted, as if she were to ask another question, but she said nothing.
‘If… Elodie, please return to your room. Roselinde will be up with your breakfast shortly.’ The girl closed the door with the appropriate celerity and Callista turned towards the stairs. ‘Follow me, Roselinde. We still have much to discuss.’
Callista did not look back as she went down the main staircase. It was not necessary: Roselinde followed, a few steps behind. Her previous mistress had taught her that, even if the rest of Roselinde’s training left much to be desired. Through no fault of her own, Roselinde lacked the refinement a servant needed to be unseen, unheard, and indispensable. It would Callista’s duty, then, to broaden her horizons and to curb the worst excesses of her disposition.
Her parlor had been, a long time ago, the master of the house’s private studio, but the Sapphire Seas had swallowed him when Elodie was a mere child. So now Callista reigned there, in a small haven of sturdy furniture, edifying books, and sedate art. She sat down on her favorite chair and stared at Roselinde. The girl was squirming in place, most likely unsure of how to behave. She waited in silence. Would Roselinde open her mouth to inquire about her duties? Or would she endure the mortification?
‘Please, Mistress,’ the girl said, with a slight trembling voice. ‘What do I have to do?’
‘Oh, dear. Always remember this: you do not speak unless spoken to. Is that clear?’ Roselinde nodded and looked down at her feet. ‘Sit down now. I shall explain my expectations of you and your duties. Please do not interrupt me.’
The explanation was swift and quick, since Callista did not waste words and the nature of the duties was simple enough: taking care of Elodie in the way Jeannette no longer could.
‘Do you have any further questions?’
‘Will I be bringing you your meals too, Mistress?’
Callista had not considered that. The truth of the matter is that she often fetched her own meals when Jeannette was incapable or unwilling to do so. She was, after all, a companion, not the actual mistress of the house. But who could blame her for making her life more convenient? She could then focus her attention on Elodie’s education and introduction to society.
‘Only breakfast and tea. You will deliver them to this room after Elodie’s. Now, Roselinde, your last duty is the most important of them all: Elodie cannot be allowed to leave the house. Her frail constitution, sadly, does not allow for it.’
‘Not even to the garden?’
Callista shook her head. The garden was an overgrown wilderness that was visible from the street. The prying eyes of the neighbourhood could not be allowed to rest upon Elodie’s beauty. The harsh sun and the vapours from the sea also affected Elodie’s health, for the worse.
‘Not even to the garden. We do visit the Temple upon the Cliff once a week, of course, and follow all proper rites. You are expected to join us.’
Roselinde, for the first time since she had arrived, smiled. It lit up her face, giving her a vivacious expression that was rather pleasant. ‘Oh, thank you so much, Mistress. I was afraid I wouldn’t have the time.’
‘Hm. You keep your faith then?’
‘Inland, we all do, Mistress. Viridiana will devour us if we don’t.’
That was unfortunate but expected. Of course, the girl was a heretic. ‘Viridiana ascended to the stars, Roselinde. She can hardly devour anybody.’ Roselinde frowned in confusion. ‘Do not talk about these superstitions to Elodie.’
‘I-I understand, Mistress. It won’t happen again.’
‘See, we also need to discuss how you will act. You must remember your actions reflect on the entire family.’ Callista paused until Roselinde nodded. She stood up and walked towards the girl. ‘Do not speak, unless spoken to. Do not discuss personal matters with Elodie. Be demure and calm at all times. Keep your clothes neat and tidy.’
‘But…’
‘Your present state is not fitting,’ Callista said and took a strand of Roselinde’s hair between her fingers. It was silky and smooth. She wondered, idly, what it would smell like. ‘Tomorrow morning, I shall braid your hair correctly and I will show you how to properly wear those stays. I promise you that after a few months of service, you will be an obedient, polished handmaid.’
‘Mistress… and what if I… make mistakes? Like today with the curtsy?’ Roselinde said, with her bright eyes open and fixed on Callista’s.
‘Then, my dear, you shall be punished.’
‘Oh, no, Mistress. I cannot afford it. My previous mistress, she’d dock my wages and…’
That was after all the custom. But there were newer methods, scientific methods, under study in the capital. Callista had read several treatises about them. There were more efficient, even if they were yet to be accepted by the mainstream, and less cruel than taking part of the wages. As Callista knew very well, many masters would invent mistakes so they would not have to pay their servants in full. An abdication of their duty that left everybody worse off.
She turned around, suddenly overtaken by emotion. Her were trembling and she felt short of breath. It was understandable — this was a unique opportunity to show that even the most uneducated person could be reformed, after all.
‘We… There are alternatives. You see, there are new ways of thinking, in the capital, about how to correct wayward servants,’ she said, standing behind Roselinde. The girl did not look back. Her nape was uncovered and her neck was, despite everything, exquisite.
‘And I’d be paid In full?’
‘Yes. But you’d still be punished.’ She put her hands on Roselinde’s shoulders. This was the moment of truth and she hoped the girl would not misunderstand her proposal. ‘In a physical manner.’
It was as if even the air and the sunlight coming in through the window had stayed still. Callista dared not move. What she was asking for was a novelty and many whispered it was a wanton perversion of discipline. But those were the voices that stalled progress. Would Roselinde understand? Or would she denounce Callista? Veridians were so against austerity, after all.
Roselinde looked up. Gone was her joyful expression, replaced by a determined look. There was no doubt in her manner, no trembling in her voice when she spoke.
‘Yes.’
A simple word, but one that made Callista take a step back. She had not expected such simplicity. ‘Are… If you’re not sure…’
‘I am sure. But… the rules. There will be no new rules? Only the ones you mentioned?’
Callista was on the brink of laughter. To have such luck! A chance to prove the new methods. She could barely contain her impulses: she wanted to take the girl into her arms and kiss her brow, telling her how proud she was. But it wasn’t the moment, not yet.
‘Yes, yes, my dear, of course. If a new rule were to come up, I would inform you first. Without clear limits, discipline is mere tyranny.’ She began rummaging inside the master’s desk. She had seen… yes. There it was: a bottle of Vermillian brandy. She would drink it after lunch, as a treat. ‘The punishments will fit the offense, as well. There will be no arbitrariness. No cruelty.’
Roselinde frowned. She looked pretty, like that: her eyes downcast, her lips pursed, her brow creased. ‘Mistress, can you show me?’ she asked, finally.
‘Show you what, Roselinde?’
‘The punishment.’
‘Do you regret saying yes? Because if you do…’
The girl shook her head. ‘I need to know what to expect.’
This was unorthodox. Roselinde had yet to earn a punishment, but at the same time, Callista did not want to lose the opportunity. It could be excused.
‘In that case, then come here, Roselinde.’
Such obedience: Roselinde stood up in one fluid movement and walked towards the desk. There was no hesitation and her eyes didn’t leave the floor.
‘Now, this is the first time, so I will be lenient. Remember, if your offense is grave enough, I… the punishment will be swift and harsh. Is that clear?’
‘Yes. What do I do?’
Endless possibilities unfurled in Callista’s mind, but in the books she had read, scholars recommended to begin with spanking. It was a common punishment people were familiar with and it wasn’t brutal. More painful methods were reserved for later parts of the process or more difficult cases.
‘Lean on the desk the desk.’
Roselinde did so. Her posture was almost perfect for the situation, but it needed a few corrections. First, she pushed Roselinde’s shoulders down. Once she was satisfied, Callista ran her hands down the girl’s chest and pushed it back. It was softer than Callista had imagined — would it be sensitive? Could that be used in some way? Her hands slid down to Roselinde’s hips and pushed them out, so her bottom would be sticking out.
‘It is important, for this to work, that your skin is exposed,’ she said. The humiliation was a crucial element of the method, but so was skin-to-skin contact: it encouraged closeness and trust between mistress and servant. She lifted Roselinde’s skirt first and the girl didn’t even flinch. It was reassuring to see the commitment. She untied her drawers so they’d fall down to the floor. When they did, Roselinde spread her legs wider. The view took Callista’s breath away: Roselinde’s buttocks were round and soft, the skin was flawlessly smooth. Yes. This was necessary, because the girl’s generous body was lust personified. Callista would have to shield her from the lascivious men outside and teach her how to resist their advances.
With trepidation, she gave the first slap. Roselinde shifted forward, but she said nothing. Not even a yelp. Callista’s hand was now marked on her skin. There was a second slap and then a third. Callista was short of breath now and her cheeks flushed with effort, but she persevered. All she could hear in the stillness was the sound of her hand hitting Roselinde’s yielding flesh and the quiet moans coming out from the girl’s mouth. Her breasts would sway back and forth with each hit, almost getting out of her dress, and her eyes were closed.
Callista’s body was consumed with heat as if her blood were boiling. She had to… She had never felt like this, not even when punishing Elodie. It was so different now that there was no petulant resistance. She did not know if she’d able to stop, but she had to. This was supposed to be a mere taste. That is, just a demonstration. The punishments would lose their effectiveness if they were commonplace. She stopped her hand mid-air.
‘That… I hope that was enough. Get… get dressed.’
The girl pulled down her skirt, but her expression was confused. ‘Mistress, did I do something wrong?’
This was why it was inadvisable to give unearned punishment. It would confuse the subjects.
‘No. Not at all. You were good. So very good.’ Gratification overtook her then: she took Roselinde in her arms. A mistake, but one she would not take back, not when Roselinde’s arms twisted around her waist and her head rested against Callista’s chest. How could Callista fail, then, to kiss her hair and pull her even closer to her bosom? ‘In… in fact, you were so good, I’ll give you a reward.’
‘What reward?’
Callista’s eyes fell upon the brandy bottle. Roselinde had looked at it, she thought. ‘Today, after your duties are done and Elodie is in bed, you will come here and we will toast to your new education.’
Roselinde’s laughter, as it turned out, was gentle and sweet, just as the girl’s disposition in general. ‘That sounds swell. My previous mistress did not let me drink.’
She put her hand on Roselinde’s chin and made her look up. ‘If you behave, there will be other rewards. Rewards of my choosing… unless... Well, if you do very well, you can choose your own reward.’
‘Oh, mistress, you’re so generous,’ Roselinde said. She put her arms around Callista’s neck, looking almost coquettish. ‘And what can I ask for?’
Callista was never a woman given to generosity, but now, it surged from her chest, unbidden and unbridled.
‘Anything.’
It was with the utmost regret that Callista loosened her embrace. It had been such an advance in so little time: the trust between them was tangible and Roselinde’s desire to please was… It was intoxicating to a degree that Callista feared. This was a serious matter, not some trifling game.
The clock struck 9 o’clock and it echoed across the empty house. Elodie would be demanding her breakfast soon.
‘Go… You will find the breakfast in the kitchen. Take it up to Elodie,’ she said, finally letting Roselinde leave her arms.
‘And when she’s done, I will help her dress, so she can join you for her classes,’ Roselinde recited, and then she laughed again. ‘I know my duties. I won’t disappoint you, Mistress.’
She took a step back and curtsied, still smiling. This time she did not stumble, but it was still lacking gracefulness. She turned around and hurried out of the parlor. It was obvious in her step that her buttocks still hurt. Callista watched her climb up the stairs, thanking the stars for Elodie’s innocence. Lesser minds would have drawn bafflingly wrong conclusions from Roselinde’s mussed hair, rosy cheeks, and rumpled clothes.
And what was worse, Callista’s state was no better: when she turned around to see herself in the mirror, she was dismayed. Her skin was reddened and covered in sweat, her up-do was undone, and even her dress was wrinkled. At least there was enough time before her first class with Elodie to refresh herself and fix her hair. But putting her tumultuous thoughts into order was a different matter entirely.
She remained unable to concentrate on anything else but the planned reward even while she was teaching Elodie. The girl was less mulish than usual, which helped, since Callista could trust her to work on her assignments without constant vigilance.
‘So, Elodie, pray tell me, how was Roselinde?’
Elodie raised her head and smiled. It was a sincere smile. ‘Oh, Miss Callista: you were right! I needed a maid. It was so nice, being able to talk to somebody.’
‘Hm, what did you discuss?’ It was good that Elodie was now reconciled to Roselinde’s presence, but she would have to keep an eye on their conversations. Any undue closeness could become a problem — Roselinde had to be loyal to the interests of the family, not to Elodie’s capricious whims.
‘We talked about my dresses and the house, that’s all. Roselinde asked about the garden. It reminded her of her home. Did you know that she’s from inland?’
‘Of course I know, Elodie, I hired her. Do you think I’m so neglectful I wouldn’t check her references?’
Elodie flinched and pouted. ‘That is not what I meant. I apologize, Miss Callista.’
Callista would usually chastise her for such expressions, but… in truth, she could see it was only a young woman’s curiosity and inexperience, not rudeness.
‘I… No. I am the one that should apologize. I was rude. It won’t happen again.’ There was disbelief written all over Elodie’s face. ‘A lady ought to apologize when she has erred. That includes me.’
Elodie nodded and went back to her book. The class continued without any further incident and the only relevant happening at lunch was the on-going matter of Roselinde’s dress being ill-fitting. Each time she’d lean over the table to serve food, her breasts would move closer to the edge. Callista had spent the entire lunch fearing an embarrassing incident, unable to tear her eyes away from Roselinde’s chest, but it did not come to pass. However, by the time she was serving Callista her tea, an entire nipple was visible. Elodie was no longer there: she had disappeared into the library as soon as she had been allowed to do so. So Callista was now free to bring the matter up.
‘Roselinde, please stay there while I fix your dress,’ she said, putting down her cup. Roselinde did as she was told. Callista put her hands on Roselinde’s breasts and noted, with a bit of trepidation, that her hands could not begin to cover them. Grateful that the girl had closed her eyes, she put them back into the dress, slowly and gently. She did not wish it to be painful. It was, after all, not Roselinde’s fault.
‘Now go help Jeanette with the cleaning.’ Roselinde nodded but did not leave. ‘Is there anything else you need to tell me?’
‘About… is tonight… will I still get my reward tonight?’
Callista was startled into laughing. She caressed Roselinde’s face. ‘Of course. I don’t go back on my word.’
Roselinde bowed and scurried back into the kitchen. She was still walking as if in pain — Callista would have to check if her bottom was healing properly.
The afternoon passed in much the same manner as the morning had: a daze of routine and distraction. Elodie was already much improved, happily chatting during tea and going to her room after that without protest. Even Jeanette was all smiles — although her smiles were sardonic and mocking. It was as if she knew something Callista didn’t. It was unsettling and Callista vowed to discover whatever she was hiding. She had promised Lady Augusta she’d protect Elodie in her absence, after all. She dared not disappoint her patroness, not after her generosity and not if she ever wanted to return to Valette.
But that was the past and the past was of no importance. She had rather more pleasant matters to think about. Anticipation made it impossible to concentrate on her novel — a rather invigorating retelling of the Subjugation of Vermillia. The prose was simple and unsophisticated, but so vibrant that even maybe Roselinde would enjoy it. She would ask later. Oh, how she hoped ‘later’ would come soon! It was very important to know how Roselinde felt about her punishment, to track her sensations and attitudes.
The sun had set by the time Callista heard three knocks on the door.
‘Come on in, don’t be shy,’ she said.
And then Roselinde was there, standing in the middle of the parlor and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her hair was loose, and she had taken off her apron. She was the picture of demureness: eyes downcast, hands clasped behind her back, her entire posture showing her obedience. All she was missing to be a perfect maid was a bit of polish.
‘Please lean against the desk, I need to… we need to check if you are healing properly.’
‘Of course, Mistress.’
Seeing the girl with her legs spread and her bottom raised filled Callista with ideas for future correction. Could this mean the riding crops she had brought from the farm would see use? It was, yes, slightly untoward to hope a servant would make mistakes, but Callista had higher goals than simply teaching Roselinde. This was for…
‘Mistress, are you coming? I’m waiting.’
Roselinde was looking over her shoulder. The impish smile on her lips was shockingly appealing.
‘I will go when I want to, Roselinde. I make the rules, not you.’
‘I’m sorry, Mistress, I will wait then,’ Roselinde answered with a chastised voice. The pout was excessive, and it made look her full lips look sinful and delectable. This newfound naughty attitude was something to fix, but it did not merit a harsh punishment yet.
Instead, Callista continued to sit in silence. Roselinde fidgeted, but she remained in place. Every second that passed amplified the visceral satisfaction of watching the girl follow Callista orders like that. What a marvelous success. Eventually, Roselinde’s posture began to flag and Callista tired of the tactic. She sauntered over to the desk and pulled Roselinde’s skirts up. To her delight — Roselinde was turning to be such a thoughtful girl —, there were no undergarments. Roselinde’s skin was no longer flawless: there were now light bruises across her buttocks and even the clear mark of Callista’s hand was visible. She pressed her hand against that mark. Roselinde moaned.
‘Does it hurt, my dear? Did it hurt today while you worked?’
‘Yes, Mistress. I felt it, every time I moved, every time I sat down. But…’
The girl fell into silence. But Callista knew that for the method to work, she had to know exactly how Roselinde felt about every part of the process. She tugged on Roselinde’s hair. ‘But what? You need to be truthful.’
‘But it reminded me to behave. To be a good girl.’
That was… novel information. It hadn’t been mentioned in the books Callista had read. How many new insights could be gained from this? Such an exciting venture.
‘Oh, Roselinde, that is good. That is so good. See? That’s what we want to nurture: your desire to please, to be of service. You will be such a docile, polished maid when I’m done with you.’
‘And what else are you going to do with me tonight, Mistress?’
Callista’s hand pressed on Roselinde’s buttocks again. There was a high-pitched yelp and then panting.
‘Hm. I will put some ointment on your buttocks. It will help with the pain.’
She had sent Jeanette out to get it: the old woman swore by its healing capabilities. When she opened it, it inundated the room with the fresh fragrance of peppermint. She applied it carefully, stroking down the curve of Roselinde’s bottom with and then moving up again. It was, indeed, as soft and delicate as it looked. And just to be thorough, because sometimes muscle soreness spread, once or twice she slid her hand between Roselinde’s legs and made sure her inner thighs were also covered in ointment. Roselinde didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, since she spread her legs more. In fact, she let Callista tend to her sore bottom without one word of complaint. Once she was satisfied with her work, Callista wiped her hands on Roselinde’s dress.
‘Does it feel any better?’
‘Mistress, it feels so much better.’
She remained still, as if waiting for… Oh, she was waiting for permission. What a delight. ‘You can move now, Roselinde.’
The girl relaxed and turned around. ‘Thank you, Mistress. Will I get my reward now?’ she said, looking up at Callista.
‘It’s unseemly to be so forward, Roselinde,’ Callista replied and, without thinking about it, pinched the cushy underside of Roselinde’s left breast. The squeal confirmed Roselinde had understood her lesson. This could part of the method when quick reminders were needed. ‘But yes. You will get your reward now.’
She had prepared everything earlier, so she quickly poured two glasses of brandy. The amber liquid smelled amazing. It would have been a pity to let it waste away in a drawer.
‘To our newfound society,’ she said, raising her glass to Roselinde.
‘To… to Mistress,’ Roselinde said in response and gulped down the brandy in one go. Slowly, she licked her lips when she was finished. ‘That was delicious, Mistress.’
Callista drank it slowly, savoring each sip and not taking her eyes off Roselinde as the girl wandered around the parlor, touching each ornament and staring at each painting. She would let her, just for today.
‘Well, now go to sleep. We have a long day ahead tomorrow.’
Roselinde put down the ornate vase she was admiring and stared at Callista, unblinking. ‘… to my room?’
‘Where else?’
‘We’re done here? You don’t want anything else from me?’
‘Yes. Your working day is over. You can rest now.’ There was an odd reticence in Roselinde’s expression, even as she began leaving the room. Interesting that she was already so attached. ‘But maybe tomorrow…’
Roselinde turned around and smiled at Callista. ‘Yes, Mistress?’
‘Tomorrow I will read to you after your work.’ Roselinde’s face fell but she recovered quickly. It was understandable: she had never enjoyed the pleasure of reading, most likely. ‘Now go. I have to rest too.’
As she watched Roselinde stumble up the stairs, Callista felt strangely bereft, but also full of joy and satisfaction. Roselinde had been such a great find and they were going to do such great work together.
She truly couldn’t wait.